Friday, February 18, 1994

PRELUDE: UNDRESSING THE MUSE


Late at night, he hears the songlines:
nocturnes for two pianos wrestle
in the oceanic stillness of the studio.
Without name, they come unbidden
to chase the varied moods of evening.

But the sound of evening has changed
livelihoods, and the color of its dreams
is trapped in the engine of this century—
In the mechanics of the siren call, white noise,
and the evolution of light—
Where are the elemental songlines
when whales no longer hear the melody?

Camera obscura:
What exists before the film is developed?
A young child, at seven,
            before the piano,            
                        confronts the black notes—
The teacher metronoming:
The fingers need to remember the melody.

Over wine & chocolate we discuss Chopin’s nocturnes.
Night's lost notes scoring the darkness.
Liquid music pours from his fingers.
He learns anew: You don’t choose the music;
it chooses you. We listen for the étude,
words undressing the muse.

February 18, 1994


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